Tilt my chin to the skies and envision your skies: mostly gray, maybe cloudy, framed by the pine greens and you— With your bright ass district colors among the earth tones and rainbow hair, marking the concrete like thunder rumbling clouds. It makes me smile, it makes me smile.


Date after date  Week after week Month after month They’re booked Occupying my sweet free time with futile, ill-planned, ill-timed tasks Which I silently complete smiling politely.


Every task, on paper and mind, Crossed off— With the luxury of a clean house, Lit up with pastels at every corner It must be April, when the frost of winter is already a distant memory and every thing is coming up!


Sweet freedom, you arrive every five in a summer breeze, sweeping my hair behind,  A shower of relief, you bathe me every five, washing away all the to-do’s, Sugary liberty for two, sweet, sweet liberty, releasing me from you, you, and you. I drift toward the two away from the five, everything goes blue Everything … More Blue

Lethal Weapon

She sits atop her throne, spinning A double-edged string of sharp remarks, they flow in a train Compartment after compartments of you are not good enough’s and no one cares for you and you’re lying to yourself, if you think you were important to them. Slicing open ancient wounds that have barely healed She sits … More Lethal Weapon